The circle game

...and the seasons they go round and round
and the painted ponies go up and down
we are captive on the carousel of time...
We cant return but we can only look behind from where we came

The whiff of warm cheese toast wafting from the kitchen
The pitter patter of feet...too eager too help
Mumma in the kitchen...the pink apron with elephants on them
and the girl in cropped hair from the kitchen running to and fro
pleasures in the oohs and aahs of the guests...

Mom swelling with pride as they love the cheese toast
or was it the praises they sung for the sweet little girl by her feet...
who was glowing and growing so rapidly

take your time it wont be long now
... till you drag your feet to slow the circles down...

And the same smell wafting from my kitchen now....
Miles and miles from my mother ...in a different country today
Miles and miles from my mother.. ...
But her voice playing in my head, in my heart

...grate the cheese, chop tomatoes and capsicum and mix them with the grated cheese
butter the bread , spoon the topping and put it in the oven and grill to perfection..
the same taste...or is it?

and the pitter patter of tiny feet... too young to help yet...
and here I am...

watching, remembering, slipping into the pensieve...
dragging my feet to slow the circle, stop the circle, rewind the circle...